The Thomas Conundrum
by Abnormal Newt
Summary: Gretchen Thomas ponders two brown-eyed brunette women who are nothing alike. Femslash warning!


Thomas sat staring out her window, utterly perplexed. This was not a mental state she was accustomed to, and frankly, she didn't like it much. Not that the subjects of her thoughts weren't _very_ enjoyable. It was just - she thought again with an audible sigh - that there were _two_ of them.

Liz. Had she met Liz any other way, she doubted she would have spent much time with the small brunette. _Lucky me_, she thought with a grin. Liz had turned out to be deeper and much more intelligent than she seemed at first blush. She was adorable in her insecurities, but amazingly deep once nudged over the edge. Insecure as she was, it was getting her over the edge that was a challenge. She didn't drink much, unless she didn't really realize how much she was drinking. And Thomas knew how to keep a wine glass just so full. _Mmmm_, the right wine was capable of so much…

Wine - gods. Wine did something completely different to Liv. Few things could turn the ball-busting, self-confident detective into a softer, sweeter, yet still _very_ sexy companion. Thomas remembered the first time she had met the lanky woman. An art opening at the Met, both reaching for the last glass of wine from the wandering server's tray. Fingers brushing… she closed her eyes and purred for a moment. An instant attraction; they'd shared the glass, a long walk, and eventually that night, Thomas' bed. It had become a habit of sorts, almost a need, to watch the hardened detective open up into a seductive, attentive lover. She'd awake the next morning with a long leg draped over hers and a head resting comfortably on her shoulder. It was _very_ pleasant to have a beautiful, sensitive woman to curl up with in those early hours before the city awoke.

Those early hours… yes, they were good. This was its own witching hour with Liz - half awake, half asleep, but completely in the possession of one very pleased blonde. In those early hours, before Liz remembered that she was a scattered, klutzy comedy writer, she positively smouldered with passion. Those hours seemed to belong to their own universe… a very heavenly universe. Thomas heard herself moan softly at the memories. She pressed a hand to her lips and knew that her pale cheeks were slightly flushed. _Good thing I'm alone. Hate to have to explain that to anyone. _Yes, she mused, it was hardly a surprise that her friends didn't understand her need for Liz. They'd never seen her loosen up and get past the fear of her own profundity. Well, temporarily, anyway. She always managed to find it again somewhere between the shower and breakfast.

Breakfast was never an issue with Liv. She claimed she never missed it. Thomas decided they must just have different definitions of breakfast. Liv, who was obsessively punctual, had not once left the Thomas house with a single bite of food. Her idea of a morning meal seemed to be staying in bed for too long - much to the pleasure of her blonde bedmate - before dragging Thomas into the shower with her just to be sure she'd been properly sated. She was always out the door before Thomas had finished toweling dry. She was, certainly, a woman confident in her exit. She knew Thomas couldn't go too long without a good draught of Olivia Benson.

Morning exits were, however, not at all on the accomplishment list of Liz Lemon. She always seemed thrown for a loop when she should have been well on her way to the office. That wasn't exactly a bad thing though, Thomas mused. She had discovered a way to silence the petite woman as her self-doubt reasserted itself in the mornings. Liz would stand awkwardly in the hall, reaching for the door but not wanting to leave, mumbling something Thomas never could catch and wasn't entirely sure made sense in any language. That's when Thomas would strike. Planting one foot between Liz's, Thomas would enfold the smaller woman completely, touching as much as possible along the entire length of their bodies. _Hugus completus. _It worked every time. As Liz's mouth stilled, Thomas would pull her head forward to rest on her chest - and thanks to her height, this was a reward for silence that she knew Liz enjoyed immensely. Thomas would finish with a deep kiss and a pat on her bum, which helped her forget her insecurities long enough to make it out the door.

Liz, the petite, adorable; a deep well of passion and intelligence hidden beneath a goofy, self-conscious personality.

Liv, the long-legged, confident, street-wise and fearless; complete with a surprisingly sweet, intoxicating center.

Thomas sighed.

What to do? She wasn't one to lead a woman on, much less two. But how do you choose between those two? It might have been much easier if the women had more in common than their chocolatey eyes and brown hair. But the truth was, the most they had in common was a lanky blonde who was enamored of them both, and completely indecisive.

Thomas shook her head and stared down at the wooden floor, still perplexed. This was not something she dealt with often, and she certainly wasn't fond of it. Not that the subjects of her thoughts weren't _very_ enjoyable. It was just - she thought again with an audible sigh - that there were _two_ of them.

This was _definitely_ going to require further research.


End file.
